Getting older is more satisfying than I thought it would be. In my twenties, I dreaded thirty. It sounded so much closer to the grave than twenty-nine.

But at thirty-two, I realize that age has its benefits. When I was younger, I barreled through life, charging into each new adventure without stopping to soak up the experience. To pause, to observe, or to lock memories away for safekeeping.

At twenty-something I didn’t have the sense to realize how precious memories are, let alone recognize a life-changing moment from a pedestrian one.

But now, as I savor the last bite of a shared crème brulée while the most beautiful woman I’ve met beams at me across the table, I do my best to wrap this memory up in protective paper. I want to remember the way the candlelight makes Carrie’s eyes dance, the way she licks whipped cream from her fingertip, the way she watches me over the rim of her wine glass, hunger and happiness mixing in her expression.

Most of all, I want to remember this new softer, easier smile of hers. The one that means she trusts me enough to drop the drawbridge and to let me within shouting distance of her heart. I can’t see it yet—let alone touch it or lay claim to it—but at least I’ve got a shot.

A chance.

An invitation…

“Want to come to a party with me next weekend?” I ask, taking her hand. “A friend of mine is opening a whiskey bar in Marin. We could drink too much whiskey, get a hotel room, see how much damage we can inflict on each other’s bodies.”

She grins, trouble sparking to life in her eyes. “Sounds good. As long as you go in with an understanding that whiskey makes me wild.”

“As long as it makes your clothes come off at the same time, I’m game.” I squeeze her cool fingers. “I like you wild.”

“I’ve noticed.” She leans closer, only to stop halfway to my lips as she curses and ducks her head, covering her face with her hand. “Oh God, no.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“My mother is here,” she hisses, curling closer to the table. “Across the room. By the bear holding the menus.”

I glance casually over my shoulder, spying the older blonde at a table with an older man with long gray hair, who’s channeling some serious Willie Nelson energy, but making it work. Renee is laughing brightly at something he’s said, seeming oblivious to her daughter’s presence.

“She didn’t see you, did she?” I ask, turning back to Carrie.

“No, not yet, but she’s a bloodhound. She’ll sniff me out.” She slides lower in her chair, until her chin is inches from her dessert plate. “We have to get out of here or there’s no way anything’s staying quiet. She’ll give Emma an earful the second she gets to a phone. And she won’t make it look good. She disapproves of every decision I’ve ever made, and banging my brother-in-law’s brother is not going to be an exception to the rule.”

I motion for the check. “Why?”

“Because we’re complicated, obviously. For the rest of the family,” she says, giving me a “what are you smoking” look. “You know that. We’ve talked about it.”

“No, I mean why does she disapprove of all your decisions? Seems to me you’ve made some pretty good ones. You’re a successful writer, beloved by children and girls I’m too dumb to realize are still children.”

This gets a smile out of her, but only for a second. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t?” I tug my wallet out of my jeans, dropping my credit card on the tray before the waitress can set it on the table. She thanks me and goes to run the card as I turn my attention back to Carrie. “You really don’t know?”

“Well, sure…I guess I do,” she says in a timid voice I barely recognize. “But I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now.”

I start to apologize, but our server has already returned with our check. As I sign, I nod toward the door. “Why don’t you sneak out first? I’ll follow at a respectable distance, meet you at the bike.”

“Thanks.” Carrie scoots out of her chair and is out the door so fast I have only a few seconds to admire how incredible she looks in just jeans and a purple-and-white striped T-shirt.

Frustrated with Renee for marring the memories Carrie and I were making tonight, I tuck my wallet back into my jeans and amble out into the cool summer evening. Monte Rio is closer to the river, and there’s a chill in the air to prove it. When I reach my bike, I pull my emergency fleece from my saddlebag, intending to offer it to Carrie for the ride home. But when I turn to scan the parking lot outside the Big Bear Steakhouse, and the people milling around in front of the old movie theater across the street, she’s nowhere to be seen.

Finally, I spot a flash of purple and blond down by the river, barely visible above the slope of the rocky beach.

I cross the street and head toward the water, finding Carrie sitting on a picnic table with her arms wrapped around her torso, watching the river roll by in the dim light from the porches of the shops and restaurants behind us.

“There you are.” I climb up to sit beside her, holding out the fleece. “Thought you might want this.”

“Thank you, that’s thoughtful.” She takes the fleece, pulling it on and rolling up the sleeves. It’s enormous, but the soft gray material looks good on her. She looks cozy, snuggle-able, which goes to show how off book I am at this point. I lust after women, I don’t crave a good, long snuggle session. But the fact remains that all I want to do right now is hold her.

So I do, pulling her close, throat going tight as she wraps her arms around me and rests her head on my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to push or pry. For a guy who likes his privacy, I can be a nosey bastard sometimes.”

“It’s okay. Me, too. Being nosey is a good way to get people talking about themselves, leaving them less time and energy to talk about me.”

I grunt. “We’re a pair, huh?”

“We are.” She lifts her head, looking up into my eyes. “But you were game that night by the beach, and I really liked learning more about your past. So…” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slow. “For a long time after my parents split up, my mom dated a bunch of jerks who treated her like shit.”

“There are a lot of jerks out there.”

Carrie’s lips curve a little as she nods. “There are. And Renee fell in love with every one of them. Then she met Gary. He was a professor at a prestigious university, loved theater and live music like she did, and never made her pay for dinner or feel bad about our shitty little apartment. When Emma went to college, Mom and I moved into a smaller place so Renee could save up to help Emma pay for grad school. It was a dump, but Gary didn’t look down on her for it. He helped her patch up the dents in the walls, paint the place, install some new cabinets, and in a few months, he had it looking downright swanky. He even hung fairy lights in my room for me so I could pretend I was going to sleep under the stars.”

“Sounds good so far,” I say cautiously. I can already tell this story isn’t going to end well, however. I can feel it in the tension making her slim back feel like marble beneath my fingers.

“Yeah, he was pretty great.” She sighs. “He also liked kids—had two of his own and wished he’d had more with his ex-wife, he said. I was fifteen, but I looked eleven or twelve. Thirteen on a good day, when I wore my shit-kicker boots and my eyeliner wasn’t too smeared. Gary treated me like a much younger kid—bringing me candy and cartoon DVDs, shit like that—but I didn’t mind. It was nice to have a father figure type person pay attention to me. I pretended to be this jaded badass at school and with my mom, but I missed my dad. It hurt that he was more interested in whatever crazy project he was working on at the moment than Emma or me.”

“I get it,” I say, squeezing her shoulder. “You know I do. It doesn’t matter how old you are, it hurts when a parent leaves.”

She nods, snuggling closer to my chest, making me feel even more protective. Making me hope like hell this story doesn’t end the way I think it’s headed. But I’m a realist, and I know a woman like Carrie isn’t trying to disappear into my ribcage because she had a nice older friend who made her feel loved when she needed it.

“So I didn’t discourage him when he tickled me or teased me,” she says softly. “I liked it when we’d watch movies on the couch, with my mom under one of his arms and me under the other. And the first time he hugged me and it went on a little too long, I thought I was imagining things.”

My jaw locks, and the hand not smoothing up and down Carrie’s back balls into a fist, but I don’t say anything. I don’t want to interrupt her or make it any harder for her to get to the end of this. Once you start a dark story, you have to get to the end. If you don’t, you leave the story buried inside you, where no light can touch it or break its darkness into smaller pieces.

“But then he did it again. And again.” She pauses, swallowing with an audible gulp. “Then he touched me through my clothes in places he shouldn’t have touched me, and I knew the next time it happened he would take it farther. As soon as he left that day, I went to my mom and told her what was happening.”

“Tell me she was there for you,” I say softly. “Or I’m not sure Renee and I are going to be able to get along.”

“She believed me right away,” Carrie says, allowing some of the tension to seep from my shoulders. “She broke it off with him and took me to counseling. She would have taken it to the police, but I begged her not to. I was too embarrassed. I didn’t want anyone to know that a guy old enough to be my dad had been the first person to feel me up.”

I wrap both arms around her, hugging her tight, grateful when she returns the embrace, taking the comfort I so much want to give.

“But things were shitty between my mom and me after that,” she continues, pulling out of my arms and brushing her hair from her face. “She never said anything flat out, but it seemed like she resented me for taking away the only person who’d made her happy in so long. Back then, I thought she blamed me for what happened, like I’d asked for it by wearing skimpy pajamas around the house or something.”

“You didn’t ask for anything. You were a kid. He was a grown-up and a creep.”

She nods, gaze fixed on the hands fisted in her lap. “I know that now. And I know my mom was probably just sad and mad, not sad or mad at me. But at the time I was just so angry and hurt.” She lets out a soft laugh. “I made her life hell and gave new meaning to the rebellious teenager cliché. It’s a miracle I made it out of high school alive. I did so much stupid stuff, and I know there were times when Renee wanted to strangle me with her bare hands.”

I rest a hand on her knee. “You were a kid in pain. People in pain do stupid shit, but kids in pain are really dumb. They can’t help it. They’re not emotionally equipped to deal. I remember. It’s why I cut my nephews more slack than Dylan does. Being a teenager is a fucking nightmare, even if everything is going mostly okay, let alone after something like what that man did to you.”

“Thanks.” Her lips curve before settling back into softness. “So that’s the story of my mom and me. It gets better, it gets worse, but we’ve never been really close since then. At this point, I don’t know that we ever will be. Especially not as long as I keep giving her things to disapprove of.”

“Like dating me,” I say, pushing on before she can confirm my hunch. “Well, too bad, Renee. I don’t give a fuck what she thinks, and it’s going to take a lot more than a disapproving parent to scare me away.”

Carrie’s grin finds its legs this time. “Yeah? Like what? Finding out I secretly hate motorcycles?”

I pause, brows lifting. “Do you hate motorcycles?”

She laughs. “No, I don’t. I love riding with you. I just wanted to see what kind of face you’d make.” Her grin is positively wicked. “It was as entertaining as I’d hoped.”

I narrow my gaze. “I live to entertain, but no, learning you didn’t like riding with me wouldn’t scare me away. I’d probably just break down and buy the Cadillac. Cal’s been tempting me with it for years, but I keep waiting for him to drop the price.” I brush her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as the cool breeze does its best to blow it back again. “But for you, Trouble, I would pay a couple grand over Blue Book.”

“Be still my heart.” She presses a dramatic hand to her chest, but I can tell she’s touched. Mocking tone or not, a part of her means it, and a part of me is already figuring out how soon I can buy that car. I want to see Carrie’s face when I tell her it’s mine and we can bang in the backseat whenever we like.

But for now, we need a bed, and I can’t wait to get her to mine.

“Get out of here?” I ask.

“Yes, please,” she says, slipping her hand into mine. “I know we talked about catching a movie, but I’d really rather go get naked with you. If that’s okay.”

I nod solemnly. “It’s very okay. The okay-est.”

She grins. “I like you when you’re all relaxed and sweet and letting me in.”

“Yeah, well…” I shrug. “I’m pretty likable. Lick-able, too. All freshly showered and ready for your inspection.”

Carrie’s eyes narrow. “Did you put on the aftershave that tastes like honey and pine needles?”

“I did.”

She squeezes my fingers as she stands, jumping off the bench. “Then let’s go, psycho. I have licking to do.”

We race each other up the riverside beach, and I let her win so I can watch her ass wiggle inside her jeans. And yes, I’m dying to get back home and get her clothes off, but I also relish every second of the ride home with her arms wrapped tight around me and her cheek resting on my shoulder. I love being close to her, in all different ways, and I just want to keep getting closer.

I’m falling so hard I don’t think I could stop if I tried. Good thing I don’t want to stop. I want to go and keep going until we see how far down this love road we can get.